


Foreplay

by Sulla



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Docking, Frotting, M/M, foreskin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulla/pseuds/Sulla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the sherlockbbc_fic kinkmeme.  The prompt is as follows:</p><p>Can we get some foreskin action up in here? Docking would be cool, but pretty much any sexy times with a heavy focus on foreskin play would put me in my bunk for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreplay

If he could, Sherlock would climb _inside_ John Watson, and wear him around London like his very own warm, woolly jumper. He does not vocalize this to his lover; he's not quite sure why, but it has occured to him that the very concept might be disturbing to John. It didn't change the fact, however, that Sherlock Holmes wanted to wrap himself bodily with a lovely, warm, incredibly sexy ex-army medic. He didn't speak of such a thing, as he had enough experience with driving people off to guess what was acceptable and what wasn't. Of course some days he got it wrong, and he drove away people he had no intention of alienating, but each time it happened, Sherlock locked away another thought, concept, or vocalization which could possibly damage the relationship he had with his lover. This did not bother him; every person in a couple had their secrets - Sherlock just had a larger number than most.

Some things which might disturb others, though, didn't bother John, and for this Sherlock considered himself very, very lucky. When they had sex, Sherlock would bask in John's presence and revel in his body, inhaling the man's unique aroma, rubbing his face into every corner of his body, licking some appendages whilst sucking others. Like a dog rolling in a favorite scent he would attempt to wrap himself in every part of John, doing everything he could to immerse himself in his lover.

Each night Sherlock would focus inordinate amounts of time on a different part of John's body. The time Sherlock could spend, for example, on the sexual aspects of John's toenails was truly a testament to his creativity. And John, where other people would tire of such eccentricity and beg to get right to the 'main show' of sex, enjoyed every moment of this extended foreplay. In fact, the man felt more loved and cherished now than he had at any other time of his life, even earliest childhood - and he had had very loving, attentive parents.

Sherlock kept things fresh for John in keeping the occurance of each night's focus in an undetectable order. For example, a week might go as follows: hair, backs of the knees, armpits, and teeth, or it might go hair, testicles, ears, fingernails. The key thing was that no two weeks were the same, and the amount of time Sherlock spent on each part of John's body varied according to the time available, and the events in their daily lives.

And it wasn't all just licking and kissing of the body part in question. The night could include anything from extended, detailed sniffing and nuzzling to spending hours drawing the body part with exquisite detail in charcoal and chalk. John simply never knew what Sherlock had in store for him.

John loved everything about intimacy with Sherlock, and their sex life was fresh, varied and extremely pleasurable. Today, though - today was one of John's favorites. Sherlock didn't usually tell him ahead of time what the day's focus would be, but he knew how John had certain favorites, and would sometimes whisper in his ear some of the things he had planned for him. He loved to play with John, giving him details when they were in the worst places to get a spontaneous erection - at crime scenes, at Scotland Yard, in Tesco's buying tea or even at his brother Mycroft's office when they once had to pay a visit there. Today was one of those days, and John was almost too excited to think straight. Today, murmured Sherlock, would be dedicated to John Watson's foreskin.

Needless to say, John was incredibly eager to return to 221B by the end of the day. They had been on the trail of a rather violent jewel thief, and they had spent more time than they would have cared for interviewing witnesses and victims, several of whom were at the hospital recovering from head wounds.

Trotting briskly up the stairs to their flat, Sherlock appeared to have no problem maintaining the level of energy that John had come to expect in their lovemaking. He went briefly into his bedroom, a room long ago having been converted to a makeshift laboratory when Sherlock himself had moved into John's bed, to check on various experiments that he had on the go as John stepped up to boil water for their tea.

John had entertained a recurring erection throughout the day which waxed and waned at various points, his cock growing thick and stout when thoughts of the evening ahead were at the forefront of his mind, and now, as he waited for Sherlock to come out of his bedroom, he was growing very hard indeed. He thought back to the last time his foreskin had been the night's focus, and shivered with excitement, steathily reaching one hand down to squeeze his hard-on, feeling a little damp patch growing on the front of his trousers. He sat down on the sofa with his cuppa and removing his jumper, waited somewhat impatiently for his lover to reappear.

Sherlock doffed his coat upon entering the sitting room, ignoring the cup of tea waiting for him on the table and going straight to John's side. He looked down in the other man's lap for a moment, his eyes tracing the obvious line of his erection down the side of one leg. John's breathing hitched as his lover placed his long, white hand on the raised cloth with the patch of dampness at the tip.

"Mmm, yes, you're wet for me, aren't you John?" he inquired with a voice that sounded almost like a purr. John didn't pause to answer him, he just took Sherlock's face in both hands and kissed him long and hard. They spent several long moments snogging, tongues flickering in and out of each other's mouths, sampling their respective partner's breath.

Sherlock's hands were busy, unbuckling John's belt and easing his trousers and pants down to rest about his thighs. This accomplished, he took the time to pause their kissing to wrest the shirt off of his lover as well. John was active as well, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt so that their hands kept getting tangled as they each tried to undress the other.

John ran his hands up and down Sherlock's sides, sliding up to play with his newly exposed nipples, poking an investigative finger into Sherlock's navel and tracing the trail of hair that disappeared under his waistband. But before he could actually pull his lover's trousers off, Sherlock had slipped down to his knees on the floor, reaching forward to grip his lover's hips and pull them forwards so that John was sitting right on the edge of the sofa. This exposed John's erection more prominently, the long, thick, dark red cock rising proudly from its' nest of blondish public hair. The foreskin had pulled back to reveal the shiny red glans, a fresh drop of pre-ejaculate welling to the surface at the tip.

Sherlock didn't hesitate. Wrapping his hand around the base, he brought his face in close to that delicious-looking cock and began to rub it against his cheeks, first one side and then the other. As he savoured the sensation of the silky-soft skin against his face, his hips began their age-old rhythm, humping the sofa slowly.

Pulling back to watch, Sherlock began to stroke John's cock, pulling the skin on the shaft forwards and back, watching the glistening head appear and disappear, mouth watering as fresh pre-cum flowed from the tip. A drip of it was attached by a sticky string to John's belly where the tip had touched. Sherlock took his index finger and picked up the fluid, depositing it in his mouth, savouring it on his tongue.

Finally Sherlock pulled John's foreskin all the way forward, creating a gathering of extra-soft skin in front of the slit, completely covering the head of John's cock. He lowered his mouth to the delicate flesh, flicking it lightly with his tongue, then sucking on it gently, and then a little harder. John's hips were thrusting in little rotating movements as his eyes slipped shut, grunting with pleasure at the sensations and the sight before him.

As Sherlock sucked at the gathered foreskin, tongue poking out periodically to invesigate under the silky skin itself, he used his free hand to unfasten his own trousers and pants, and shuffled out of them. Maintaining the two movements at once was difficult, but not impossible. With his tongue, he delicately pried the loose, stretchy foreskin away from the glans, running his tongue all around the head, enjoying the flavours he found there - salt, musk, a little hint of soap and something that his brain labelled as pure, unadulterated John.

John had reached the point where he needed more, and Sherlock as usual seemed to cotton on to the fact the moment John thought it. He climbed up on the couch, straddling John's thighs, bringing their dicks together. He took them both into one hand for a moment, pumping them as one, and then took his own cock in hand, pulling his forskin back and placing the tip to John's own cockhead.

John knew where this was going, and his heartrate increased exponentially. He loved this. Sometimes he preferred the other side of it, but tonight John was ready to wrap himself around Sherlock, the little bit that he could.

With their tips together, Sherlock pulled the loose skin of John's cock forward, stretching it out to its' limit, eventually having enough excess foreskin to wrap Sherlock's own glans in it. Both men groaned in mutual pleasure as their cockheads were tightly wrapped in John's satiny flesh.

"Stroke yourself, John," intoned Sherlock, taking his own cock in hand and doing just that, careful to keep them close together. The two men began to jack off in tandem, melding each of their unique rhythms together, and it wasn't long before Sherlock reached orgasm, which was what he had been hoping for, specifically for the effect that his ejaculation had upon John.

Sherlock spilled his semen directly under the hood of John's forskin, the volume of which made the liquid ooze out from under the skin. John was watching, and the sight of Sherlock in the throes of orgasm coupled with the twin tactile sensations of Sherlock's come running against his sensitive tip and down his shaft with the strokes of his own hand brough him to orgasm himself with a gutteral groan. The feeling was superlative; the slit of his dick pumped out its' liquid directly against the tip of his lover, and their semen mixed together as it made a combined mess on their groins.

"Good lord," John panted when he had reasonably come down from his high.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, breath still heavy.

"I love foreskin day,"

Sherlock flopped down on the sofa beside his flatmate. "Yes, myself as well."

John paused, still catching his breath. A thought occured to him. "It's kind of nice, docking - almost like being able to wrap myself around you in a genital-hug."

Sherlock looked up at that, pleased that the thought had occured to John. "Precisely!"

Sherlock went to sleep that night with his mind more at ease than it had been for a long time.


End file.
